


Pounding

by viceroyvonmutini



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-03-16 10:49:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3485438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viceroyvonmutini/pseuds/viceroyvonmutini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She made the right choice she thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pounding

**Author's Note:**

> Ha. HAHAHA. Yes. Well. That episode was GREAT wasn't it guys just FANTASTIC man I feel FINE. 
> 
> I had to write something.   
> I've been up all night. It's short. But I had to write SOMETHING.

She makes it up the hill.

She makes the long march back to base camp. She is not worried about Clarke finding them: she knows she won’t see Clarke in a very long time, if at all.

She makes it through meetings: short affairs as she explains the terms of release and the victory for her people though no blood was shed. Many are angry they did not feel the heat of battle. She can only breathe with relief at lives spared.

She makes it through victory toasts. A meal spread along a lengthy wooden table: meats and spices from every Clan. Indra doesn’t fill the gap at her side.

She makes it to her tent.

She makes it to her throne.

And she weeps.

She does not wail loudly as she has heard Clarke do. She barely even shakes but the tears roll freely, smudging her proud war paint.

She does not think it proud in this moment.

She weeps for sacrifice. She weeps for Clarke, and her fallen people. And, she thinks bitterly, she weeps for herself.

She was strong.

So why does she feel so weak?

She has lost everything. But her people are safe.

She thought the hardest part had been to swallow her pride and accept the deal. It was only after, faced with the Sky Princess, that it was clear the true reason why she had taken so long to deliberate her course of action.

She had made the right choice.

She feels guilty.

Some part of her, some selfish part of her, hopes Clarke will understand. Clarke would have done the same: this comforts her. Clarke will understand: this is less certain.

Clarke is the only one capable of understanding.

Leadership, she thinks, has never felt so lonely.

She needed Clarke to know that she did care. She begs Clarke to understand this. Clarke saw everything: she had been proud but her mask had been weak and she had little doubt that Clarke saw everything. Her debate. Her regret.

She would have sacrificed hundreds of her people to follow Clarke into battle unquestioningly. And that terrified her.

Her head did not make such foolish choices.

She has stopped weeping, but does not make to move. The noise outside her tent dies down as the celebrations end. They are half-hearted at best: there is no post-battle euphoria this night.

She is thankful for that.

She cannot have any more of her people’s blood spilled.

This, she thinks, Clarke would understand.

She had been nervous earlier. Like the teenager she was: a trip to Polis. Clarke had said yes.

Clarke had said yes.

Plans change in battle, she thinks.

This one changed for the better.

She knows she won’t see Clarke this night. She knows the Princess: she will keep fighting. She will not abandon her people. Nor would she. Nor did she.

Jus Drein.

Jus Daun.

How far would Clarke go?

How far had she pushed her?

She hoped, wished, Clarke might live to see another day.

She stands slowly, stepping down from her throne and taking measured steps towards the map upon a table. The table Clarke had pushed her against, calling out her weakness that even she would not acknowledge.

It had scared her.

She was strong. She had proved that.

She was weak.

She wondered what she was going to do with the remaining Sky People. What would they do? The healer would surely seek retribution. She could see no lasting threat.

She pushed them out of her mind.

She noted Indra came back alone. She should have killed Octavia. She had proven disloyal to her. Why was that? Emotional attachment to the Sky People she mused.

Why didn’t she kill the girl?

Clarke.

She was weak.

She had always been weak.

Today she had been strong.

She thinks of future challenges, future battles. She thinks of Clarke’s survival. She has no doubt Clarke will survive. Not anymore.

Clarke is strong.

Would Clarke challenge her? Start a war?

She thinks not. But the girl would not let this go. Things would not be the same.

She had lost much for this victory. More than she let herself think about.

She thought Clarke knew.

Polis would have been nice.

She calls her guards through in a low tone and orders them to being preparing the camp for movement. She tells them to inform Indra.

They were going to Polis.

She allows a slight smile at that. Her plans have not changed so much. She does not rely on the girl.

Polis had been a genuine invitation.

Clarke knew where to find her.

She doubted not for one second Clarke would find her when deemed necessary.

She wondered whether Clarke would ever see Polis: she had hoped to be the one to show her it, though she doubted it would be the joyful experience she had imagined.

She had lost much.

She had showed strength.

The living were hungry.

She fixed her paint: she looked like a warrior again her strength as Commander flowing back. It had always seemed lost around Clarke.

She was herself.

She strode out of her tent to supervise proceedings.

May we meet again, Clarke of the Sky People.


End file.
